The Rookie
by Franzi
Summary: Major Crimes has a new detective and while Blair's on an expedition to Mexico, David attends Jim at a stake out. A Jim Owie with a lot of Blair Angst...


The Rookie

Disclaimer: See the [Fan Fiction Page][1]  
  
**Thanks** again to D.L. Witherspoon for letting me "borrow" Dr. Cuthbertson and Sadie Farmsworth. They are hers. And hugs to my beta Elaine, who's just great! All remaining mistakes are mine.

Note: Pay attention to the alternating POVs. The story's told from Jim AND from Blair's POV.  
**  
Note #2: **This is a response to a challenge that's going on on CT: "Write a story that contains the words: "Ellison! Put that rookie down! NOW!" "

The Sentinel  
- The Rookie -  
_Written by [Franziska ][2](September/October 2000)_

  
Raging I step out of the lift – heading right towards the young man who is standing at the opposite side of the bullpen. I grab him by his shoulders and smash him against the wall.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? If I say stay where you are, then *do* that! And just why did you take MY car for hunting the perp, and not YOURS? And – for god's sake – how did you manage to crash my truck so hard that no one is able to repair it?! Do you know that this truck was a CLASSIC?!"   
  
I can already hear Simon cursing.

"Ellison! Put that rookie down! NOW!" Simon barked.

Reluctantly I let him go and I'm on my way to Simon's office when I hear him shout, "Ellison, my office!"

I follow Simon to his office and decide to keep standing while he's yelling at me…

"What the hell is wrong with you, Jim?"

"Nothing. It's just this new detective – what's his name? David McDouglas? –he's getting on my nerves, Sir. I can't stand him. He thinks he knows everything and can do better than us. For example, I tell him to stay where he is and when I come back, he's somewhere else. Someday he's going to be killed if he keeps that up."

"Is it really McDouglas who's bothering you? Isn't it because of the fact, that Sandburg left for a week to attend a very important meeting?"

"No. That's not bothering me. It's not the first time in my life that I'm alone. I don't depend on Sandburg that much."

"I don't think so. Since Sandburg left two days ago, you yell at everyone who dares to speak to you. Come on! Everyone notices it."

I must admit, he's speaking the truth.

"Okay. You might be right."

"And in this one week, you'll need a partner – and you're just perfect to lead David a little bit around. C'mon.. It's just this one week. Pull yourself together."

"Will try."

"There's a lot of paperwork waiting for you two. You should start with it."

I really don't want to do paperwork. Not tonight.

"Sir. Don't you think, that he would get to know the job better, if he would do this stake out with me that's set for tonight?"

"Do you really think that this is such a good idea?"

"Why not?"

"Because you never know what can happen there. Maybe you won't have any problems with your senses. And just in case you notice something, how would you explain it to him?"  
  
"Don't know, but he's a rookie. He'd be so excited, he'd be sure to forget it. Trust me. And I do not depend *that* much on Sandburg. I think I can control my senses pretty good by myself – without Sandburg's help."  
  
"Then do it. I'm still not sure, if it's right, but do it. Anyway, nothing's supposed to happen tonight."

~~~~~

"David. So you are from Scotland?" I ask him to start a conversation. As Simon said, nothing's supposed to happen. Dr. Alan Collins received some threats in the last days. So we told him to take a vacation, to go to another place for the next two weeks. Now we're watching his house, hoping to catch this guy. The perp's not supposed to show up,but you never know.

"Yeah, I'm from Inverness."

"So you are a Highlander?"

"Yes. But my family moved to Cascade when I was four years old, so I don't know much about my home country. Never been there since that time."

"Do you speak Gaelic?" Maybe I can surprise Blair, if I greet him with Gaelic words. I want to see his face when I do this.

"A bit. I can say 'Thank you': 'Taing, mo charaid' and I can greet: 'Ciamar a tha thu'."

"You have to talk to Sandburg – my regular partner – he probably can teach you some more Gaelic."

"Is Sandburg from Scotland?"

"No. He's an anthropologist."

"Why is he your 'partner', if he isn't a cop?"

" He's writing his dissertation about closed societies and…" I stop, because I hear someone trying to get into the house.

"What's up?" David asks.

"Someone's trying to get into the house."

"How do you know this? I can't hear or see anything."

"He's at the back of the house, trying to get into the bedroom."

"Huh? I still can't hear anything. How can you?"

"I'll explain later. Call Simon and then follow me in." 

I step out of the car and walk towards the house, the gun in my right hand. Carefully, I open the front door, trying not to let the guy know that I'm here. Only a few seconds later I can hear David behind me. I gesture for him to take the ground floor. I climb the steps to the first floor, where the sleeping room is situated. Hearing the burglar, I follow the sound. Sensing him in the sleeping room, I open the door – and look directly into a very bright light. I just try to adjust my eyesight to it, as I hear the trigger of a gun being pulled back. Before I can react I feel two bullets tear into my body.

~~~~~

Oh god. It hurts like hell. I can't tell, where I'm shot, because my whole body's burning. I try to find the pain dial, but I can't concentrate. Blair. I need him now. Need him to make the pain go away. I can't breathe and the pain's getting stronger with every move I make. What's that? Something's pressed against my chest and my abdomen. A voice is speaking to me.

"Shh. You're going to be alright. Just try not to move."

That's not Blair's voice. Who's that? I try to remember the name, but I can't. The last thing I notice is the arriving of paramedics, before the blackness overwhelms me.

~~~~~

Immediately after Simon called I flew back to Cascade. Shit. What happened there? And how's Jim? Simon hasn't told me anything. Only that Jim was shot twice and that he's still alive. But for how long?

I *knew* I should have stayed with him. I shouldn't have gone to Mexico.

Finally, I arrive at the Cascade Hospital - a well - acquainted place. I spot Simon's car, so he's still here. For some illogical reason I take this for a sign, that Jim's still alive.

After taking the lift, I can easily spot Simon. He's talking to Sadie Farmsworth. Hell, I know her even better than some I know some of my friends.

"How's Jim?" I ask Simon after he finished talking to Sadie.

"Sandburg. Would you please take a seat? You're making me nervous by standing(just hovering) there."

Okay, I sit down. But I just can't wait any longer.

"Okay Simon. I'm sitting. Now, tell me about Jim!"

"Doesn't look good. He took one to the lungs and one in the lower abdomen. In Dr. Thorne's house he flat lined and again in the ambulance. They've got him stabilized, so they can risk surgery, but they aren't very optimistic that Jim will survive it. And if he does, it's not sure if he'll ever recover 100% - due to the damage done by the bullets richocheting around inside him."

"Do you know what happened? Were you there with him?"

"No. David - the new detective - was there with Jim. He heard the shots. And he shot that perp dead."

"Good. Otherwise, I would've killed him. Where's David now?"

"I sent him home - he was covered with Jim's blood. If it wasn't for him, Jim would have bled to death."

I stand up, so I can look into Simon eyes. "Damn it, Simon. Why in god's name did you assign a ROOKIE to Jim for this??? Maybe he had problems with his senses! Why didn't YOU go with him?"

"Sandburg! Stop that! It wasn't my idea!"

"Then *whose* idea was it?!"

"Jim's. Actually, I wanted them to do some paperwork, but Jim said that David would get to know the police work better this way. You know how stubborn he his."

"But you could have gone with him!"

"I've got a job to do, Sandburg! I just can't be with Jim all the time. We didn't expect the guy to show up that evening! We thought it would be safe for the two of them."

Now I feel stupid. Of course, Simon can't keep an eye over Jim 24 / 7, just because I'm not there. And of course, it was Jim's idea. I feel my knees become wobbly and so I sit down again.

"Sorry. It's just… What if he dies?"

"He won't, Blair. He's strong. And he's too stubborn to die. He'll survive."

I feel Simon's hand resting on my shoulder. No matter how he tries to assure me, I can't believe his words. I see it in his eyes. He doesn't believe it himself… I try to hold back the tears, but I don't succeed. I already feel them running down my cheeks.

"Shhh. Let it out. It's okay."

Thankfully, I lean my head on Simon's chest and cry it all out.

"Blair. Wake up!"

I can't remember falling asleep. My first thought is that everything was just a dream, but when I open my eyes, I look into the friendly face of Dr. Cuthbertson. JIM!

"How's Jim?"

"He survived the surgery. Would you please come with me into a separate room? I need to talk to you."

Whoa. That doesn't sound good. I follow her as if in a trance, not cognizant of anything around me. My only thought is on (of) Jim. We enter a little room and Dr. C closes the door behind us.

"Blair. Jim made it through the surgery. But his heart stopped twice during it and I don't think he can do this a fifth time without causing some permanent damage to his brain. You have to think about DNR – papers."

Well, that's a *real* shock. DNR – Do not resuscitate. I can feel my hands getting shaky. Dr. C notices that and she makes me take a seat. She's getting me a coffee, while I'm thinking about it. I try to imagine, what *Jim* would want me to do. If I don't sign the papers, there's a little chance for him to survive. But what would be the cost for this? A damaged brain. Maybe he wouldn't even be able to eat without help. No. That's not a life Jim would want to live. He also wouldn't want to be kept alive by machines. It's very hard for me to make this decision, but I'll sign those damn papers.

~~~~~

A few minutes later, Dr. C comes back with two mugs of coffee. I take my mug and spill some of the coffee, because of my shaking hands.

"Sorry." I whisper.

"It's okay. I know it's hard for you, but have you made a decision?"

I pause, before I answer. "Yeah. I'll sign."

She gives me the paper and I sign them, not sure if I *really* want to think about what they mean.

"How's Jim's condition?" I ask her, trying to hide the fear in my voice.

"Bad. His heart rate and blood pressure are dropping very fast, though we must admit that we don't really know why. I think he won't make it through the next hour."

Suddenly I feel as if someone's grabbing my heart. Fighting against the tears in my eyes I ask: "Can… Can I stay with him during this hour?"

"Of course. He'll need you. I'll get you to Jim's ICU room and then I'll talk to Simon."

"Okay."

~~~~~

I sit next to Jim's bed in the ICU. He looks really awful. He is way too pale and it seems like his skin is so thin, that if I'd touch it, it would tear. Nearly every part of his body is attached to a monitor or has needles or tubes in it. I hear the slowing beep of the heart monitor. His heart rate is now at 40, too low for him and it's dropping. Hell, what am I supposed to do? I just CAN'T sit here and wait!

I take Jim's left hand with my right hand, and lay my left hand on his forehead, the only parts of his body that aren't attached to needles and monitors. Stroking his hand, I cannot hold back the tears anymore. I can feel the tears running over my cheek and dropping on Jim's hand.

"Jim. It's me, Blair." I whisper. "Please, I want you to concentrate on my voice. Please come back to me. Jim. I'm right here with you, you're not alone anymore. Can you hear me? Jim, please don't leave me alone." 

While I keep talking to him like this I have to stop sometimes, because I can't stop the sobbing. This can't be true. Jim just can't die now! He must survive!

~~~~~

Pain. I feel nothing, but pain and the water around me. In the last few hours I tried to swim, but now I have no more power. I just can't do it anymore. I can already feel the waves closing over my head and my lungs filled with water. I'm sinking to the ground and I just can't stop it. The water surrounds me, and the pain is fading away. Actually, I can't feel anything now. Wait… What's that? A voice is calling me. Blair! It's Blair's voice! He's crying. And he wants me to come back, not to leave him. Suddenly I can feel my body gaining strength again. I do some swimming movements and finally I can breathe again. Now I can see the shoreline in front of me. Only a few meters. Two minutes later I can feel ground under my feet. Thankfully, I lie down in the warm white sand and fall asleep. A peaceful and healing sleep.

~~~~~

Thank god! Jim's heart rate is rising! It's already at 50 and still rising. I don't know what happened, or why it happened, but I'm really glad he won't die now! For - I don't know how long - I just sit there and stroke his hand and speak to him. Hoping, he hears my voice and to let him know, he's not alone. Suddenly the door opens and Dr. Cuthbertson steps in. She looks at the heart monitor and almost drops the chart she's carrying.

"Okay… I've gotten used to many things if it involves you two. What did you do? Jim's stabilized!"

"I did nothing. Just sat here and spoke to him. How are his chances, now?"  


"50/50 he'll survive, 70/30 he'll recover 100%. We don't know, if there's been any damage done to his brain or if the gun wounds will heal completely. We have to wait."

50/50. That's way better than it was an hour ago. Exhausted, I fall asleep on my chair next to Jim's bed.

For the next days I visit the hospital every time I can, only leaving it to change. Every once in a while Simon or Rafe and Brown or Joel and David or any other member of Major Crimes shows up – and asks how Jim's doing. Anyhow, I always tell them the same: 'Nothing's changed.'

~~~~~

After some time – I think it was some hours, but I'm not sure, I wake up. Feeling that the sun's gone. But there's a voice speaking to me. 

"Jim", it says, "Come back, but take it easy. It's going to hurt. Try not to move, please."

I recognize this voice as my guide's voice. Sandburg's. Slowly, I open my eyes and look into the light – blue eyes of Blair... Oh god! He didn't exaggerate when he said, that it's going to hurt. It hurts like hell! Trying to breathe, I feel there's something in my throat – it nearly makes me gag. I recognize it as a tube and so I let it go and let the machine breathe for me. Now I remember. I've been shot twice during a stake-out.

"Oh, Jim! You're awake! Thank god!" He says.

How long have I been here? I try to ask him this, but the tube is in the way. I gesture to Blair that I need something to write. He nods and gives me a pen and paper.

HOW LONG? I write down. Moving my right arm hurts a lot, and so it takes me a while to write it down.

"Two weeks", he answers. "You've been in a coma for two weeks. And you scared the hell out of me."

THAT BAD?

"Yeah. To be honest, you weren't supposed to survive the first hour. I had to sign the DNR papers. Oh god, Jim!"  
I can see the teardrops running down his cheeks and I feel so sorry for him.

HOW BAD? I ask him.

"Very bad. You took one to the lungs and one to the abdomen. You'll survive it…"

BUT?

"But they aren't sure if you'll recover one hundred percent."

Oh God. I know what this means. I may be never able to work as a cop again. And I can see in Blair's eyes that he knows it, too. Now I can feel tears in my eyes.

"It's okay, Jim." I can hear him say.

He strokes my hand, trying to soothe me.

"You'll be okay. I'm sure."

I *really* try to believe his words, but somehow I can't. The door opens and Dr. Cuthbertson steps into the room. She seems to be very surprised, when she realizes that I'm awake.

"Good morning, Jim." She's smiling at me.

TUBE? I write down.

"We can take it out, now that you're awake. Do you want me to do it now?"

I nod.

"Okay. Then take a deep breath, and when I say: 'Exhale!', then you do so as long as you can. It may be a bit unpleasant, but it shouldn't hurt too much."

I can feel Blair grabbing my hand a bit stronger and hear him say, "Concentrate on my heartbeat, Jim. I know you can do it."

"Breathe!" Dr. C says. I do so and take a deep breath.

"And now: Exhale!" 

While I'm doing this, she pulls out the tube and I try to concentrate on Blair's heartbeat. However, my senses are still out of control and I can't focus. Instead, the pain is getting stronger. I try to fight against it, but finally I become unconscious again.

~~~~~

"How is he?" Simon asks me as I step out of Jim's ICU room to get something to eat.

"He was awake for a few minutes, but became unconscious again as they removed the tube."

"Does he know it?"

"That he may be never able to do his job again? Yes, he knows it. And in the moment he realized it he looked so… helpless. Oh Simon, I don't know what will happen, if he can't work as a cop." I know it. And Simon knows it. It would destroy him.

"We get through it, Blair." Simon tries to encourage me. "I'm sure. Believe me."

"Simon…" I can't talk any more, as my fear overwhelms me. Trying to soothe me, Simon puts his arms around my shoulders.

"Everything's going to be okay, Blair."

"I hope so." I whisper and turn around – back to Jim's room.

~~~~~

Pain. Again this indescribable pain and I can't control it. I force my eyes to open and again I look into the face of my friend.

"Jim. Dial it down." He knows that I'm in pain. He always knows it.

"Can't." I whisper.

"That must be a result of the shock. Close your eyes, Jim, concentrate on your hearing. Can you hear my voice? Filter it out. Concentrate solely on my voice. Now, imagine the dials. Do you see them?" I nod. "Take the pain dial and turn it down. Ten – Nine – Eight – Seven – Six – Five – Four – Three – Two – One. Okay, that's it, big guy. Better?"

Carefully I open my eyes again and yes, the pain's not (as strong as it was)that strong than it was before. It's still there, but now I can handle it.

"B'tter."

"That's great, Jim. Your throat must be very sore. What about an ice cube?"

I nod silently and Sandburg puts it carefully in my mouth. Sucking it slowly I enjoy the cold liquid in my throat, which eases the pain – at least a bit.

"Th'nks." I murmur and Sandburg nods.

"D'vid?" I ask. Hopefully he's not in any trouble.

"He's okay. He saved your life. Without him you would have bled to death. David is really worried about you and asks me every day how you're doing."

"T'll him Th'nks."

"Okay, that's what I'll do. Get some rest, Jim."

Some moments later Dr. C steps in.

"H'llo." I whisper.

"Hi. How are you doing?"

"Okay."

She turns around to Blair. "Would you please leave the room? It's time for his examination."

"Do I have to leave him alone?"

"Yes. Blair, it's only for a few minutes."

"Okay." Reluctantly, Blair leaves the room.

After Blair left the ICU cubicle, Dr. C looks at me. "Now, Jim, how are you *really* doing?"

"It h'rts. W'th ev'ry br'th I t'ke. 'Nd I feel v'ry weak."

"That's not a big surprise. You've been in a coma for two weeks and weren't supposed to survive."

While talking to me, she checks the IVs, examines me and takes some blood.

"OK, detective. You're lungs are getting better. But we're concerned about your left kidney. It's still not working properly. We don't have to do dialysis 'cause your right kidney can do all the work, but…"

I know exactly what she wants to say. "Couldn't w'rk as a cop th'n."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. We have to wait. Wait for the results of the blood test. If they don't show any sign of an improvement…"

I don't really listen to the rest of the sentence. I know what she wants to tell me.

After she has left, I just lay here and stare at the ceiling. Sandburg's stepping in, I notice it, but I don't react. Again tears are running down my cheeks. Blair's trying to soothe me, but I don't hear his words. I don't need to. It's enough to know, that he's here, beside me. Dr. C must have talked to him, because I feel that he knows what's up. He sits there, wiping the tears off my face, talking to me with his 'guide voice', trying to reassure me. After I'm all cried out, I finally fall asleep.

~~~~~

I wake up again and see Dr. C in front of me – smiling.

"Good news, detective. Your kidney is recovering. However, we have to watch it for the next four weeks, but we're pretty sure that you'll recover 100 percent. It will take some time, but you'll get through it."

Sighing with relief, I lean back and smile back at her. "Th'nks." I answer, still not able to pronounce the vowels.

"You have some visitors." She says and leaves. The door opens again, and Simon, Blair and David come in.

"D'vid." I greet him.

"Detective Ellison. I'm so glad, you're going to be okay."

"C'll me J'm." I smile at him. He's very nervous – you don't need any Sentinel abilities to realize it. "Th'nks f'r s'ving my l'fe. G'ss now you are my Bl'ssed Pr'tect'r."

"Your what?"

"His Blessed Protector." Blair begins to explain. "It's a Chinese tradition, that if you save someone's life you become his Blessed Protector. You saved Jim's life. You're his protector, he's mine."

"So I protect your protector?"

"That's it."

"Great. And who protects me?" Simon complains.

I relax and listen to the conversation. Everything's going to be okay. Blair's already making some jokes and I can feel my body healing. I smile and let the voices of the three men soothe me. Seems like I've found a new friend in David.

~~~~~

Two months have passed since Jim got shot during the stake - out. He's been home now for three weeks but is still very thin and pale. I'm just about to bring him his lunch when someone knocks on the door. I open it and find David.

"Hi, David." I greet him.

"Blair. Where's Jim?"

"He's laying on the couch. Why?"

"Because I've got something for him."

"Then come in and give it to him."

"That's not possible. You know, I destroyed his truck, and I thought, the least thing I could do is buy him a new one. My uncle sells cars and so I can get them a bit cheaper. Do you think he could make it downstairs to look at it?"

"Of course. Jim! David's here. Would you please come to the door?" I ask him. Slowly he's making his way to us. He's still not able to stand straight, but he also refuses any help I offer him. We make our way carefully down the stairs - the elevator's not working again. We finally make it out to the street, and what Jim sees makes him forget about his pain.

"Sweetheart!" He yells, moving as fast as he can towards the blue and white colored '69 Ford Pickup. It really looks like his old one and Jim seems to be really glad about this.

"Taing, mo charaid." He says, looking at David. Huh? Why's Jim speaking Gaelic?

"Jim? Why are you speaking Gaelic?"

"David told me those words. You know, his ancestors were Scots and so he can speak some Gaelic."

"I knew that this would make you happy." David says. "I saw it and thought, 'That would be perfect for Jim.'"

"And you were right. Thank you, David."

THE END

Okay, the end's a bit shorter than it was planned to be. But my muse left me after I wrote 2/3 of the story… :o)  
Maybe there will be a longer ending, soon. Let's see to where my muse leads me…

Loved it? Hated it? Please send me [feedback.][2]

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